mmunal road of Albogasio Superiore. Half-way up they all jumped into a
field of maize on the right, and stopped to listen. They heard steps on
the stairs leading upwards from the church-place, and then on the path
where the guard was posted. Evidently the police wished to make sure
that all the exits were well guarded. The four crawled swiftly away
through the maize, and on reaching the spot below a great boulder
called "Lori's Rock," they stopped to hold a consultation. They might
take the path that comes out on the Albogasio road at the very door of
Pasotti's garden, and then climb up from field to field, as far as the
Boglia road. But the path would be hard to find at this hour, and
fearing to lose too much time, they determined to make for the stairway
that leads up from Albogasio Inferiore to Puttini's house, then, leaving
Casa Puttini on the right, they could reach the Boglia road in no time.
It was already less dark. In one way this was a disadvantage, but at
least it would enable them to find their way through that labyrinth of
small fields and low walls. All were silent. Only Pedraglio would utter
an oath in Milanese from time to time, as he stumbled over a stone or
scratched his hands on a hedge. Then the others would hush him. They
reached the narrow stairway preceded by the prefect, who jumped walls
and hedges like a squirrel. When they were all together on the stairs
Franco withdrew from the group. On the Boglia road they would not need
him; he was going to Cressogno. In vain Pedraglio seized him by the arm,
in vain the prefect implored him not to expose himself to certain
arrest, and probable imprisonment. He believed he was obeying Maria's
voice, and felt that he was acting according to the dictates of
conscience. He tore himself from Pedraglio, and disappeared up the
stairs, for he did not wish to go to Cressogno by way of S.
Mamette--that would be too dangerous.

"Follow me!" said the prefect. "The man is mad, and we have ourselves to
think of."

As they were about to turn the corner of Puttini's house, they heard
people approaching who were probably going down the stairs. The door of
Puttini's house was open. The friends slipped inside. The people passed,
talking. They were peasants, and one was saying: "Where the deuce can he
be going at this hour?" Alas, they had met and recognised Franco! If the
gendarmes and the guards should start out to hunt for the fugitives and
come across these people, they w